I Never Want To Be Alone
by Mombi
Summary: I got this idea from a TV show I watched the other night, called 'Driving Lessons', starring Rupert Grint. His character, Ben, will be the same, but I have my own character in there, too. Points of View will change with each chapter. Enjoy. Review. :
1. The Alderton Hotel

If you saw a sixteen year old girl walking down the street with a huge sports bag over her shoulder, what you would think? That she was pregnant and had had a huge fight with her parents? Or, perhaps that she was a stark raving loony drug addict?

Maybe so, but this was **me** walking down the street with a huge sports bag over my shoulder. **Me** being Elena Mae Crescent, but I prefer Mae for short. You see, I'm not pregnant and I'm not a stark raving loony drug addict, but I **had** fallen out with my parents.

Would you like to know **why** I'd fallen out with my parents?

Well, I'm going to tell you anyway.

Because they didn't believe in me, that's why! I was an aspiring singer, but they felt that the music business was an unreliable industry to work in. They never supported me, so I thought 'Fine! I'll go out by myself and get myself into the music business!' So, that is what I did. I left Manchester, where I used to live with them, and moved to London.

Now, I suppose you're wondering how the hell a sixteen year old girl could possibly afford to live in London, right? Well, a family friend of mine ran a hotel in London, so I decided to head there to ask, ever so nicely, for a room.

"Okay, then," I mumbled to myself, as I held out a small map of London before me. "Where the hell am I meant to go now?" I looked up from the map, then looked back down at the map, looked up from the map again, nodded to myself and carried on walking straight ahead.

I walked on for another ten minutes, before finally finding the Hotel. I looked up at the huge building, with its shiny windows and clean marble steps, which led up to the double entrance doors. I made my way up the marble steps and pushed open the double doors, walking into the lobby of the hotel. I could hear light, tinkling music in the background. The floor was marble, and I could see a few settee's in the corner. The people who were sitting in them gave me odd looks, as though I wasn't good enough to be in **their** hotel.

Trying to ignore the looks I was getting from people. I made my way over to the check in desk. I rang the small bell on the counter and waited for someone to come and talk to me.

"Yes?" asked a posh woman, in her mid-thirties, looking down her nose at me.

"Erm," I started, my thick Manchester accent suddenly sounding rather strange. "Is Mr. Alderton around?"

The woman behind the counter narrowed her eyes at me, suspiciously. "Why do you feel the need to speak to Mr. Alderton?" she asked, sitting back in her chair.

I narrowed my eyes at her and said, "Because I've had this overwhelming urge to talk to him for weeks, for no apparent reason, so I came all the way down from **Manchester** to talk to him," I watched her reaction turn from suspicion to shock and I smirked. "Will you just hurry up, woman? It's pretty important."

Looking scandalised, she hopped down from her chair and quickly walked through a door, which was just behind the counter. I could hear muffled conversation for a moment, before the woman returned to her place behind the counter, followed by a man I knew as Mr. Patrick Alderton.

I'd known Patrick for years. He was an old, old friend of my dad's. They used to go to college together and they kept in touch, but lost contact a couple of years back. I could just remember that Patrick had said something about running a hotel in London, and seeing as this hotel was called 'The Alderton' I was guessing that this was the one that he ran.

"Mae!" he cried, once his eyes had rested upon me. I smiled at him and took a few glances at the woman behind the counter. She seemed shocked, almost appalled, that her boss knew someone like me.

"Hey, Pat," I said, shaking his hand.

"What are you doing here? Are your parents around?" he asked, looking around as though he was expecting them to pop out of no where.

"Nah," I said, shaking my head slightly. "You see, that's why I've come here. We had a pretty big argument a couple of days ago, and I ended up storming out."

Patrick seemed a little shocked. Then he seemed to become confused. "Why did you come all the way down to London, though?" he asked, leaning against the check in desk.

"It's a long story," I said, waving his questions away. "I don't want to seem rude, but you don't have any spare rooms I could use, do you?"

His facial expression's softened and he nodded. Patrick checked me in on the computer, before grabbing a key and handing it to me. I smiled at him, gratefully, and I was about to say thank you, before I was interrupted by the woman behind the counter.

"Sir, this is a penthouse room. How on earth is this…girl," I took note of how she paused on 'girl', "going to be able to afford to pay for it?"

"Oh, she won't need to. She can stay here for as long as she likes for free. Think of it as a friendly gesture," he added, facing me.

My smile widened and I shook Patrick's hand once more, before thanking him again and making my way over to the lift, which was across the lobby. I pressed a button with the number '11' on it and I felt the lift start to shudder. I rested my back against the wall of the lift and sighed.

"Nice work, Mae, nice work," I muttered to myself, as I closed my eyes.


	2. Diary Entries And Mental Asylums

_**This chapter is in Ben's P.O.V. The previous one was in Mae's P.O.V.**_

**_Enjoy. _ **

_---------------------------------------------------------_

_Dear Diary,_

_I don't even know why I **have** a diary. Mother gave it me, and I thought it'd be rude to refuse it, so I may as well make some use out of it. _

_Well, my name's Ben and I'm seventeen. And a half. I live with my Dad in Yorkshire, but at the moment I'm down with my Mom in London for the summer holidays. My Mom and Dad broke up a few months ago. My Mom's excuse was that 'God told me to get a divorce'. More like the guy she left my Dad for was better in bed._

_As I'm sure you can gather, my Mom is a bit of a religious maniac. She drives me insane, and she knows that she does it, but she doesn't stop with her preaching. A while back, she made me dress up as a Eucalyptus tree for this stupid play she was running. She thought it was wonderful, but it was an **actual** nightmare. I've never been so embarrassed._

_I'm dreading these four weeks in London. I'll **actually** go barmy. My Mom's new 'lover', Joe, despises me. It'll be a miracle if he doesn't try to kill me at least once in the time I'm staying with them. And then there's my Mom. Again, the only reason she had me down to stay was because 'God told me it was the right thing to do'. Yes, she **does** talk out of her arse._

_Anyway, I better go. I can hear her coming up the stairs._

_Night, Diary. _

I quickly shut my diary and shoved it under my pillow. I knew if my Mom saw me with it she'd ask to see what I'd written.

She knocked on the door to my temporary bedroom and came inside, without waiting for me to give her permission. She would have flipped if I'd done that to her.

"Ben Ben," she crooned, smiling at me in a sickly sweet manner. I attempted to smile back at her, but I think my facial expression was more of a grimace. I really do hate the nickname 'Ben Ben'.

"Hi, Mom," I muttered, not looking her in the eye.

"So," she began, as she sat on the edge of my bed. "Do you like it here?"

I wanted to say 'No, you loon, go live in a mental asylum', but my manner's kicked in at that point and I said, "Yes, Mom. It's great."

She smiled even more and stood up. She bent over and kissed my forehead before saying, "Make sure you get some sleep."

She walked back over to the door, turned off the light, walked out the room and shut the door behind her. I glanced at the clock as I sat in bed, with my arms folded across my chest, scowling. The clock read, in large fluorescent green numbers, '9:09'. It wasn't even dark, yet!

I sat in bed, fuming, for a good hour and a half. My Mother still appeared to think that I was seven, not seventeen. Seventeen and a half, actually.

I was still fuming ten minutes later. I then heard an odd noise, which came from the left of my room. I frowned, pushed the bed sheets off me and got out of bed. I crossed the room, trying to make sure that none of the floor boards creaked. I leaned towards the wall and pressed my ear against it.

I listened closely. I could hear what appeared to be creaking bed springs. My frown deepened and I listened some more. I then heard a sort of panting noise.

It suddenly dawned on me what the noise was. It was my Mom and Joe. Having sex. In the room next door to mine.

My jaw dropped in a disgusted way. I stomped back to bed, as noisily as I could. No wonder my Mom wanted me to go to bed at ten past nine. I shoved my head under my pillow, in a vain attempt to block out the noise, which was gradually increasing in volume.

"What a messed up life you lead, Ben," I muttered to myself, before shoving my fingers in my ears.


	3. Photo's and Phone Calls

**This Chapter is in Mae's P.O.V.**

**Enjoy. **

I was in love with my hotel room. It was **actually **amazing. I had a huge glass window, which gave me the **best** view of London** ever**. I had a massive queen sized bed, all to myself, with a mini fridge opposite it, which was next to a huge flat screen television.

I'd spent the previous night watching films on the TV and picking drinks and snacks out of the fridge at regular intervals. I'd retired to bed at around two o'clock, knowing that I wouldn't wake up until about twelve the next day.

Oh and how right I had been. I managed to pull myself out of the extremely comfortable bed at eleven fifty-eight, before dragging myself off to the bathroom to get showered. First, of course, I had figure out how to **use** the shower.

I wrapped myself in the warm, fluffy dressing gown that was provided and pulled back the shower curtain. Everything was perfectly white and sparkling clean. Shampoo and shower gel were provided, along with a sponge. I smiled to myself and looked up at the system that controlled the showers temperature. At that point, my smile faded. I was terrible at working anything electrical, or anything with switches of any kind, unless someone had explained how to use the item thoroughly.

I frowned slightly and, dropping my dressing gown, climbed into the shower. I slid the shower curtain shut after me. I looked up at the shower system, and took the shower head out of its holder. I pushed a little white button, which said 'Power' and, remarkably, water began to shoot out the end of the shower head. I smiled again and looked back up at the shower system. There was a small handle, which was surrounded by red and blue marks. I took a guess that the handle controlled the temperature. I twisted the handle to the left and the water began to heat up. I grinned, feeling quite successful.

For five minutes I just stood underneath the shower head, letting the water drench me. I wiped the water from my eyes and grabbed the shampoo. I washed my hair before grabbing the sponge from the side, along with the shower gel.

It wasn't long before things started to go a little pear shaped. I was lathering the sponge when I dropped it. I bent over to pick it up when the hot water suddenly went cold and made me jump. I automatically stepped back and slipped on the bubbles that littered the bottom of the bath tub. I landed on my back with an 'Oof!' and hit my head against the back of the bath tub.

I was dazed for a moment, feeling the bubbles pop against my back. I only decided to sit up when I heard the door to my room open.

"Mae?" I heard Patrick call.

"Oh, bugger," I mumbled, standing up and turning off the shower. I jumped out of the bath, dried myself with a towel and wrapped myself in the fluffy dressing gown.

"Hi, Patrick," I said as I opened the bathroom door.

"Oh, hello, Mae," he said, smiling. "How are you finding the room?"

"It's great," I said, nodding and smiling.

"Ah, glad you think so," he said. "So, what are you up to today?"

Patrick was starting to get on my nerves with all the questions he was asking, but I decided to answer them all, seeing as he was letting me stay in his hotel for free.

"I don't really know what I'll do today," I announced, pausing to think of something to do. "I may go out and get used to the place."

Patrick nodded, agreeing that it was a good idea. He said goodbye to me and left me alone in my room. I frowned at the door for a moment before deciding to get changed.

-----------------------------------------------

I made my way down to the lobby at half past one, my trusty rucksack on my back with my purse and phone inside. As I made my way over to the double doors, which lead me back out on to the street, I waved at Patrick. He waved back to me and smiled.

I stepped onto the pavement and looked around. Cars flew past me on the road and people pushed past me on the pavement. I sighed and started walking.

I walked for half an hour, merely getting used the streets and making mental notes as to where everything was. I walked past shops that I'd heard people talk about, but never had the privilege of looking at myself. I looked into the huge front window of Harrods and looked at a coat that was on display. I'd heard Harrods was pretty pricey, so I looked at the price tag on the coat.

It read: '£170'.

"Bloody 'ell," I murmured, staring at the price tag. I shook my head and carried on walking.

I walked down the street a little bit more, trying to remember all of the specific shop names, so I could recall where I was if I was out again.

I was now walking through a park, taking pictures of trees and flowers on my phone. I spotted the London Eye in the distance and stood up to take a picture of it, when I was hit on my right side and I feel to the floor.

I coughed, feeling winded. I opened my eyes to see a guy with red hair and green eyes looking down at me.

"Shit, I'm so, so sorry," he apologised, extending a hand for me to hold. I grabbed it and the boy pulled me up.

"That's okay," I said, brushing myself off and coughing again. I saw the guy looking at me and I held out my hand. "Mae Crescent," I said.

"Erm…I'm Ben…Ben Thompson," he stuttered, shaking my hand.

I smiled up at him. He was a good six inches taller than me.

"Where are you from? I noticed your accent…" he trailed off, looking down at his feet.

My smiled broadened. It was cute to see a guy so nervous around me. "I'm from Manchester," I said.

He nodded, but didn't say anything else. I could tell he had more questions to ask, but he must have thought it rude.

"Look, give me your number and I'll call you, so we can meet up again," I said, getting my phone out of my bag.

"Oh, I don't have a mobile," he said, looking quiet shocked. "Here, let me take your number and I'll call you."

I nodded and recited my number to him. After that, I smiled and said goodbye to him, waving at him over my shoulder.

_I wonder if he'll call me_, I thought. _Now, how the hell do I get back to the hotel?_ I wondered, looking around for a shop that I remembered.


End file.
